Dreams of an Asp
by faerietale
Summary: Grima/Eowyn darkfic. There is no cure for a heart poisoned by words.


Title: Dreams of an Asp  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: **Grima/Eowyn**  
Feedback: Please.  
Disclaimer: Yeah. These characters and places are not mine. I'm just playing with them.  
Warning: Umm... no fluffy bunnies here, folks. Dark and icky.   
Notes: Lots of love to Veuki for the beta. Also to Araliesse for cracking the whip and offering me chocolate. Oh and in case you didn't know...  
Asp: An extremely poisonous egyptian snake.   
  
  
  
Tonight, Grima would have his way.   
  
He had waited; boding his time until he knew everything had fallen into place. Theoden was fading, nothing more than a shell of his former self. The Riders of the Mark now spent more time patrolling than in their home, leaving Grima's plotting unchecked.   
  
Eowyn, the last person he had dared to touch, was slowly succumbing. All did eventually, crumbling under the weight of heavy words and bitter promises.   
  
They called him "snake", yet if he was they would do well to beware his fangs. No cure can save a heart poisoned by words.  
  
*  
  
In the beginning, she had refused to speak to him.   
  
He came to her while she slept. Whispering softly, he would tell her of the fate of her people, and how very lucky she was to be loved by him. What began as peaceful sleep would soon become restless, and she would toss and turn under her bed-furs, whimpering. He would stroke her cheek gently, and speak soothing words. _I will never allow you to be harmed... I protect what I hold dear._ She would soon fall back into an uneasy sleep, breathing slowed.   
  
She was beautiful when she slept.   
  
*  
  
She woke up in a cold sweat with the suffocating feeling that the world around her was closing in, leaving no room for air. She pushed aside her furs, and in opening her eyes found her gaze was met by two impossibly cold eyes. She could feel them stare right through her, into her very soul. Frozen, she could only stare back, wide-eyed. She shivered and pulled the furs back around her; the feeling of being trapped was long forgotten in the sudden chill. While he watched her silently, she lay beneath the furs hoping her nightmare would soon end.   
  
*  
  
He watched her every waking moment in the shadows, just beyond sight. He listened to her speak riddles into the night of a fear she couldn't express and of despair she couldn't even imagine.   
  
Sometimes he watched her dressing, drawn to the pink scar on her arm. Rumor held that the wound appeared one night in her sleep. It had almost healed, leaving a long scar on her pale skin.  
  
He wanted to kiss and caress it, his mark on her that would never fade.   
  
She stared at it with haunted eyes, sometimes for hours, not daring to touch it.   
  
*  
  
He entered her room silently and pushed the door shut behind him. Inside, she lay awake, staring blankly into darkness. Reaching out to touch her, he was taken aback when she recoiled, eyes darting uncertainly. Only for a moment, however-- he couldn't let this pass him by. There would be no other chances.  
  
"My love," he whispered, reaching out again. Her eyes slowly followed the path of his hand until it rested softly on her cheek. She looked back at him, cheeks flushed, eyes still asking the questions she was afraid to voice openly.   
  
He meant to answer them all.  
  
*  
  
Pushing her back against the bed, he covered her mouth with a hard kiss. His hands chilled her, and she was sure that they were leaving little trails of ice when they slid over her body. "I am yours... always," He whispered harshly, words broken by his panting.   
  
He trailed kisses down her arm, stopping for a moment to nip at the scar. She hissed in pain, and he gave the scar a final lick before taking her hand. "And you," he said, planting a kiss gently on her palm, "are mine."  
  
She whimpered underneath him, and the nightmare continued.  
  
*  
  
In the morning, she found herself tucked in snugly under the bed-furs. Rising, she dressed and left the golden hall. She looked out at the landscape, with its sun and warm breezes and colours; never had she felt so out of place. She didn't belong here, but in her dreams. She wondered at the meaning of these strange dreams, so vivid she could have sworn she'd been weeping during them. Filled with darkness, moans, and words that destroyed from the inside, out. Dreams that broke her, and left her shattered in the morning. Crushed and hollow.   
  
Dreams of an asp.


End file.
